I
It came as a simple request.
Like most things from her they appeared initially simple…but turned
convincingly complex.
This was one of those times.
I’d like to ride a
train, she said. It was April, it was the start of a spring and the Hill
Country was in full bloom.
I’ve got some ideas, was
all he offered.
II
The Hill Country Flyer covers about 2 hours worth of Texas
roadside…winding its way from Cedar Park up to Burnet…a small town with an
actual gunfight show to please those who deign to travel to this little part of
the Hill Country.
Skirting the Balcones
Canyonlands refuge, the train travels into Texas at a time when the sky and the
ground are dueling colors…the broad brush strokes of blue drawing your eyes to
a heaven while below bluebonnets mirror the sky. Some fields have winecups, their purple hats
atop green tendrils showcasing the difference between Spring in Texas…and every
other season.
The train was built in 1916 when that primary mode of
transportation was pervasive; bought second hand by the Squaw Creek Coal
Company of Indiana, it was one of the last ones of its kind. And now it was the primary source of
transport known as the Hill Country Flyer.
A first class seat was $45.00.
He could afford that…would gladly have paid more, and was
thrilled when her eyes lit up as they wandered up to the steel giant.
You got us first
class? She was pulling him along, going past the locomotive engine,
stopping once to peer between the wheels, and then immediately up again.
I did. I figured it was how you normally traveled.
Ha! Don’t I wish.
Well today it’s
true. For 2 hours at least.
She turned to him at that second. Thank
you. For 2 hours at least.
The car was actually a Pullman Lounge, dating back to the
early 70s…its name was City of Chicago.
Seating was plentiful (he had actually called to see when the train was
at its ebb on passengers) and they had the car almost to themselves. Wide bright windows unbroken by frames or
joints showcased the train station…the views were limitless.
So I think you made a
good choice.
Thank you. You may disagree with me later…you may
quarrel with your memory and scold yourself for accepting this trip.
Her eyes narrowed a little bit, and the usual arms folded
across her chest. Why?
He shook his head. Not now…let’s sit, let’s listen to the
whistle. We have some time
together…infinitely way too short but at least some. So please, I’m going to shut up and watch you
watch Texas
.
That seemed to satisfy her and she picked out a seat where
she could command the view. He didn’t
sit next to her…he sat opposite. Which
prompted a question.
Why are you over
there?
So I can see you.
You can see me if you
sit next to me.
I want to see all of
you.
Oh. All right.
The whistle exploded and with the herky-jerk of a start the
train slowly started moving…tendrils of black smoke blossomed outside of them
and people at the station waved smiling at the departed. He noticed she waved back, smiling as
well. He didn’t wave. But he had a slight smile while watching her,
forehead almost pressed to the glass, eyes bringing in the colors and the
views.
III
The trip was cathartic…it blended both the connection to a
much simpler time…with the way the Hill Country has looked for years. The movement of the train, the horn during
crossings, felt very visceral. It was
truly riding, truly traveling. It was comfort. It was convenience.
The only thing that could resemble the view of the
far-reaching horizons of gorgeous wind-swept flowers was the way she looked in
the afternoon light, streaming in through the glass windows…almost like a
stained-glass, almost religious.
She
studied the terrain, making comments and laughing at some of his replies…it was
like stepping back in time…but knowing you could always return back to the
beginning.
After some time, she turned away from the window.
I think I know what’s
behind those eyes.
He turned to her. Yeah?
What exactly?
She looked down and had her hands in her lap. It reminded him of somebody in church.
You want more. You want to know more.
He shifted a little bit and watched the blur of colors
behind her.
I don’t necessarily
want more…I guess I just want fewer bricks between us.
If I let out one
secret I’ve got to let them all out. Her voice was almost a whisper. But she continued…I can’t tell you what is in here because if I let it out I have to
acknowledge it. It’s alive. It’s living.
Breathing.
He didn’t respond to this…she had never looked up during her
sentence. And she kept her head down
continuing….It’s breathing…wait, I
already said that. And for it to
disappear I’d have to kill it. And I don’t want that. I’d rather keep it in its cage.
He nodded a little bit.
He didn’t really know what to say to this.
You keep a cage, I
reference bricks…there are a lot of things between us he finally offered.
I don’t think there is
that much…but I guess so.
I feel like there is…I
sense the areas and the times when you disappear from view. And I guess I hate that.
She looked up at him.
I thought you didn’t hate anything
about me?
You’re right.
The colors of the afternoon were shifting a bit…more
flashbulbs of light, of reflections, they shadowed her face, kept her eyes
darker than usual.
What’s worth more she
started…hearing no or hopefully assuming
yes?
Well that’s kind of my
point…I don’t hear a lot of yes now.
She nodded some more.
Okay. But you just have to know there are
parts…there will always be parts, that nobody will ever own.
I don’t want to own
them. I just want to be connected to
them.
Well I’d say you’re
connected…
I’d say I’m not…I’d
say that what you own is like a piece of crystal…a flute—
A flute? Like the music one?
Like the champagne
one.
Oh. Good.
That you own this
flute…this glass…and you can fill it with whatever you want. Maybe it’s water, maybe it’s champagne, maybe
it’s me. You can spill it out whenever
you want…you can turn it upside down.
Are you non-alcoholic?
He laughed at that…no…I’m
very toxic. I’d like to say I’m like
absinthe. Forbidden and very
potent. Which is why I think you don’t
let me occupy these things you own.
I thought you just
wanted to be connected.
Well I used a cup
metaphor so I need to fill it…just one of those damn physics issues with liquid
and properties.
Okay.
A silence settled in, the tracks clacking along, the car
moving gently in a rhythm.
I think I’m going to
get off in Burnet and maybe just hang around there. He said it casually.
Her face registered for just a second, head tilting. Why?
Because you wanted to
ride a train. You didn’t say I want to
ride a train with you…you just wanted to ride.
I think you’re being a
little over-reactive.
No…honestly, I want
you to ride alone. I want you to enjoy
this.
I am enjoying it.
I know…the part of you
that is enjoying it is being here…the part of you not is being distracted. I don’t want that…I just wanted to be alone
with you for awhile…and I got my wish.
And you’ve now got yours.
It wasn’t awkward…it was just the two of them.
Wait. You bought us round trip first class tickets—
Just one round trip.
So you knew you
wouldn’t be coming back with me before all of this?
I did.
And that’s why you
said I would scold myself for coming?
Partially.
Why only partially?
Because you’ve shared
a little bit…and I feel like you’d do that only if you wanted to…not, you know,
unwillingly.
So…you’re just going
to send me back to Cedar Park all alone?
You’ll be safe in your
cage.
You’re an ass.
She turned sideways and went back to looking outside.
At Burnet they looked at each other briefly, she was in her
seat, he was standing above her.
He reached out to her…not in a handshake, but more like a
palm up gesture. She put hers down on
top.
Enjoy the train.
I will.
He moved down the car to the connector section where the
doors opened up. He waited until it
stopped and then he got out. He didn’t
need to look back…he knew she wouldn’t be looking.
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